The joy of pets

Eeeeeeks, I shrieked!

There I was typing furiously on my story and hubby walks in. I was hip-deep in some really good scene and I got interrupted. It happens a lot! I put a mirror on the corner of the monitor that shows the doorway behind me but I was on a roll and frankly... he walks like a cat. He likes to sneak up behind me and read over my shoulder (ooo that's a pet peeve of mine, you'd think he'd stop but noooOOOoooooOOOoooo... eh, story for another day, LOL!!)

Apparently he thought I needed more blog material or something. So… herewego.

He delivered this announcement with just a bit of dread and morbid disgust:

"Tigger just barfed by the bed."

Then he stood there… just looking at me.
He. Just. Stood. There.

Well hold me back, stop the presses... does that mean... oh say it isn't so!! Does that mean I get to clean it up? Good golly, Miss Molly... and here I thought I was going to be able to eat din-din without feeling queasy from cleaning up a catmess.

There went that notion. Guess din-din's gonna have to wait till I get disinfected, too, hehehe.

And since when did he forget how to use a paper towels and Oxy-Clean (Ooooo if you have cats or dogs, this stuff is marvy on carpeting!)? We've had five cats for a while - it's not like catmess is a new idea around here.

I sooooo wish it was! We clean the carpets and feed them Furball-B-Gone regularly… if you have a cat, let alone more than just "*A* cat", you're going to get to play rug-spot-fixer at least once a week, if not more. Catmess happens.

So... feeling much like the big bad wolf out to lynch me a cat and a hubby all at once, I huffed and I puffed, and I got out the cleaning stuff (hey that rhymed! cool!), and I marched down the hall to see...

...the tiniest little spot of catmess that I've ever seen. I squinted, looked around, yep – hubby-dearling was pointing at that miniscule spot.

I'm not going to get graphic, but usually a catmess is quite... umm... artistic.

Me, looking around for more spots: "This is IT?"
Him, hedging his bets: "Well, there was that too."
He pointed to a spot some five feet away - far too distant to be from the same umm... errr... projectilation. (That's a word, isn't it? My spellchecker thinks not, but I think it is.)

Me: "That's not recent, that was Tigger couple days ago, darnitall. I'll go over it again."
Apparently the older spot came back up, so I hit it again with the Oxy-Clean right after hitting the new spot.

Out, darn spot, out!

Of course, hubby had to watch me closely, thankyouverylittleforhelpingsheesh!
Tigger had long since vanished. Probably hiding... again. The cat's a woos. Or is that wuss? Yeah... wuss.

Poor Tigger, she gets so stressed sometimes. It'd be nice if she didn't make a catmess right where we either A) need to walk in the dark barefooted, or B) next to someone trying to sleep. Perhaps one of these days she'll aim at the linoleum or wood floor so it's ta-da (drum-roll-please) far easier to clean! Like that'll ever happen.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kitties though… and I know if we didn’t have cats, we’d have dogs. Or a combo of the two, maybe a house rabbit again - I used to raise those years ago. We just love our pets.

Oh the people I meet...

So much for my belief that Wal-Mart had the only oddballs wandering the aisles during daylight hours. No offense, hubby-dearling, this doesn't mean you. *grin*

Went to Walgreens at lunch today (it's a chain drugstore, if you don't have those in your neck o' the woods) to use some coupons. Hey, if I need something AND it's on sale AND I have a coupon AND they gimme five bucks off for one day... I'm sooooo there!!! Gotta love me a bargain. Or two or three.

And those of you that know me, know I love to read, so of course... there I was, minding my own business, looking over the books and magazines... when along comes a Worker Bee in her ohhh... I wanna guess she was fifty-ish. I just know she was a little older than me.

WB: "Are you 'Dee'?"

Me, blinking, surprised: "Beg yer pardon?"

WB, looking not the least put out: "I know this is a weird question, but are you 'Dee'?"

Me, looking for nearest escape route: "Umm... err... not today I'm not."

WB, explaining further: "I'm supposed to meet someone here named 'Dee' today, and I thought you might be her..."

Me, relieved in an odd way but still apprehensive: "Sorry, I'm a 'Susan' last I checked, not a 'Dee'." I shook my head and scooted a little to one side here.

WB, scuttling away, turned back to chuckle: "Oh you can't be her anyhow, she has a British accent."

Well... game on. Ding ding ding, I can do that!

Me, in my absolute best Brit accent: "Oh, a Brit, you say? I CAN do that, luv!"

WB, skidding to a stop with somewhat started expression: "You're sure you're not 'Dee'?"

I just laughed and shook my head and she was mollified enough to go looking for another her Dee elsewhere. What I didn't know just then is that she was supposed to meet this Dee-person in THAT aisle, not just anywhere in the store.

So there I was, wandering the aisles for the other super-duper-coupon-deals and I roamed back past that aisle again to see her accosting, I mean asking, two more women if they were 'Dee' and overhearing the same explanation that she was looking for a Dee in that aisle today. They had the identical look on their faces as I'm sure I had: Where's the nearest exit? Where're the men in white coats? Security!!

For about ten seconds I seriously thought about walking back to her with my best fake accent and re-introducing myself as Dee, but... considering that I didn't know WHY she was meeting Dee (and in, of all places, the magazine/book section of the local Walgreens! how odd is that?), then I curbed my curiosity for once.

For all I know, she wanted to belt the person in the face! She seemed harmless enough, but then... don't most serial killers at first glance?

Or... maybe this Dee owed her money, I just don't know. I wasn't gonna ask. But now I'm curious as to WHY she wanted to meet Dee... I can't ask her again until I go back there and find the same Worker Bee! Eeeks!

Oh but wait... if I did go find her on another day... wouldn't it be funny to walk up to HER and say, "Are you Susan?"

I'm sooooo mature some days.

So... if you're in Vancouver, and you have to go to Walgreens to pick up some nifty stuff today, AND your name is Dee... shop at Rite-Aid. You'll be safer.

It's just a hunch. *grin*